Chapter 89 Before I Break
❦ Rosalind ❦
I tried the handle but it wouldn’t turn.
It was locked.
My knuckles pounded against the door, panic seizing me.
“Viktor!” My voice echoed in the silence. “Open the door… please!”
The lock clicked.
Before I could brace myself, the door swung wide and I stumbled straight into his arms.
He caught me, his voice low against my ear. “Careful, tesoro. The ground… there’s glass everywhere.”
My gaze darted past him. The mirror above the sink was shattered, a jagged hole punched through its middle, glittering shards scattered like ice across the floor.
My breath hitched.
And then I saw his hand. Blood streaked down his knuckles, dripping steadily.
“Viktor!” I gasped and seized his wrist, my eyes flying to his face. “What did you do?”
But there was no answer from him. His expression was blank as he stared at the blood with a strange detachment, as if it didn’t belong to him at all.
I tugged him, guiding him carefully out of the bathroom, my bare feet avoiding the shards. He followed me without a word, his body moving but his mind miles away.
I snatched clothes from the dresser, throwing some over my arm, and kept my other hand tight on his.
“Viktor,” I tried again, my heart slamming in my chest.
Nothing.
Not even a twitch.
I led him into the second bedroom. Flicking on the warm light, I turned to him and forced my voice steady.
“You know I’m here for you, right?” I whispered, searching his blank stare for any sign of recognition. “Always.”
He didn’t answer.
I coaxed him to sit, cradling his hand under the running water. The blood thinned and swirled pink down the drain, and I carefully washed away the shards, murmuring soft words of affirmation.
He didn’t even flinch or resist.
When I drew the tub and the steam rose gently, I undressed and slid in. I pulled him with me, guiding him down into the water.
The heat wrapped around us, and for the first time his body reacted. His head tipped back, and he groaned deeply. His muscles loosened under my touch as I bathed him, running water over his chest, his arms, everywhere, as he surrendered slowly to the warmth.
He closed his eyes, his face softened, and though he wasn’t fully back with me, I felt him ease enough for me to breathe again.
My fingers slipped into his damp hair, combing gently through the strands. The sound of his groan still lingered but I wanted more than just his body’s surrender. I wanted him here with me.
“I know how you feel,” I whispered, leaning close. “Maybe not exactly. But close enough.”
His eyes stayed shut, though the crease in his brow softened.
I took a shaky breath.
“Ever since I came back to New York from Boston, it’s felt like I was missing… something. Like I’ve been living without an important block of information that would make sense of everything.” My voice faltered, but I continued. “My father kept things from me. Serious things. Things his enemies used against him. And if he had just… just trusted me with them, maybe we could’ve figured it out together.”
I watched his face, but he didn’t react to my words.
My throat burned. The confession slid out before I could stop it. “I regret pushing him away. I thought I was hiding my own inadequacies, but I didn’t see that he was already drifting too. From me. From everything. He was drowning in his personal and business struggles, and I…” I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut.
The memories surged to the forefront of my mind. The last few months papa came to visit me in Boston, I hadn’t even noticed how tired he looked. How weighed down. I’d been too wrapped up in myself.
Tears blurred my sight.
I tried to swipe them away, but then Viktor’s hand rose, his knuckles brushing my cheek, and he wiped them for me.
That single, simple touch unraveled me.
“I feel lost without them,” I choked out. “Without my parents. Like I’ve failed them both. Like I I’m not living up to their expectations.”
The water rippled softly around us, then his voice cut through, each word pulling me back into the present.
“Is it because,” he murmured, his eyes finally opening to find mine, “you’re in love with, and helping, the son of your father’s enemy?”
I froze.
And then I broke.
The sobs clawed up my throat before I could swallow them back. I pressed my trembling hand to my mouth, shaking my head. “Yes,” I whispered against my palm, my voice wrecked. “Yes, I’m double-thinking everything. My choices, my loyalties, what I’ve become.”
The admission scraped sucked the fight out of me. I hated hated how small and uncertain I sounded, but it was the truth.
Beside me, Viktor stilled.
Even without looking at him, I could feel the way his body went rigid, the way the air thickened between us.
For a heartbeat, I thought he would pull me closer and hold me the way he always did when my walls caved. But instead, the water shifted with sudden movement, and his warmth left my side.
I opened my eyes just in time to see the ripple of his inked back as he rose, droplets sliding down his muscles and scars.
My breath caught in awe. Then in dread.
The water rippled in his wake, and before I could reach for him, the space beside me was empty.